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6
Worth Woman’s While
Resolve.
Build on resolve, and not upon regret,
The structure of thy future. Do not grope
Among the shadows of old sins, but let
Thine own soul’s light shine on the path of hope
And dissipate the darkenss. Waste no tears
Upon the blotted record of lost years,
But turn the leaf, and smile, oh, smile, to see
The fair white pages that remain to thee!
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Teach Her to Make Her Bonnet.
While so much is being said of household eco
nomics and domestic economy in its various phases,
there is one question it appears to us should prop
erly come under this head which receives little, if
any, attention aiming to relieve a situation all
must agree is growing more and more serious.
The expense of living includes the outlay for
clothing, and in the average household the amount
directed to the one need is dependent on that re
quired for the other—what is left after food and
fuel are supplied is to be spent for clothing, or vice
versa, according to the wisdom and common sense
of the spenders. Some regard the clothing of the
body of more consequence than its sustenance, and
can rise on Sunday morning oblivious as was Tit
tlebat Titmouse to the demands of the stomach, and
as contented as he, resign themselves to the want
of breakfast, experiencing with that gentleman all
the absorbing joy and elation of the possession of
new apparel. Men, in general, prefer to satisfy
first the appetite, but a woman will live on barely
enough to keep her, and will stint her family, giv
ing them cheap and unnitritious food, in order
that there may be money left sufficient to make a
good appearance to the world. And if all the depri
vations and necessities to which this need gives rise
could be recorded in one great book it would make
a tale of tragedy that must melt the heart of the
world.
Nor is it—this deplorable state of affairs—to
be laid to individual fault. The pace has been set
and he, or more particularly she, who does not keep
up, soon finds that she has no sort of representation
anywhere. Senseless as it sounds, and is, a wo
man’s dress is taken to indicate her as prosperous
or successful or entitled to social position according
as it is modish and costly. To say that this is not
true is simply to assert what should be, not what is.
And so it is that women, especially those of the
large and increasing number who work, and the
wives of salaried men, feeling the burden upon them
to dress as well as others, are put to it in ways that
ought never to be, and that sane and reasonable
living ought never to countenance. It has even come
to the place that a woman who does not present
the same appearance as other women cannot expect
to get employment—though how she is to do this
on a pitiful weekly wage it does not concern the
employer, of course, to ask.
The most expensive article of dress is the hat,
and a recent visit to millinery establishments fol
lowed by the remark of a man who has had a long
and familiar acquaintance with the world, has led
to these reflections. This man discoursing on the
extravagant prices of millinery summed up his re
mark thus: “It is a matter which the legislature
should take in hand. Prices are growing more and
more exhorbitant; fashion is running away with
us, and it should be put a stop to by law.”
We know there was once a time in England when
woman’s dress became a subject for parliamentary
legislation, and so such action as this wise man sug
gests were not unprecedented. And were not the
suggestions very good? For what else could meet
a situation so universal and so intrenched in that
strongest of strongholds, woman’s vanity? It is
this, of course, that is responsible in the main.
The few who can pay whatever price asked will
do so, and the milliners, large and small, know that
The Golden Age for November 15, 1906.
By FLORENCE L. TUCKER.
so can they force the fashions, and the prices. To
restrain the dealers, that were the only way.
The occasional woman who is brave enough to
wear a hat worked over, or one made up at home,
makes no impression anywhere beyond this sort of
announcement to her friends that she is restricted
in means or growing in stinginess, neither of which
things has fashion’s sympathy. We are all alike
aware that the latter is a haughty dame, making
no concessions, and uncompromising in her exac
tions.
But to be independent of her, to dare to disre
gard her mandates, or to follow them at a distance
and to such extent only as our means will allow,
this is the idea that is presenting itself to those
women who simply cannot pay twenty-five and fifty
dollars for a hat for a single short season. Though,
to make one’s own bonnet requires the skill of an
artist or the training of a professional; and what
woman has that? It is not just a mere matter of
being willing to sacrifice pride and set fingers to
work—it is the knowing how.
It is a question not alone of the immediate pres
ent, as it requires but a glance back over a few
seasons to show. Each successive season has had
its advance in prices and extravagances until we
have arrived at the present, with no reasonable
prospect in sight but a contiuation of what prom
ises deeper and deeper plunges into extravagance
if there is not called a halt. No immediate radical
improvement of the situation could be possible otner
than legislative interference, and this certainly
is not imminent—nor, we might safely say, ever
to be looked for in this land of woman’s privilege
where she will be protected even in her follies.
Conditions will be growing worse. We are un
able to cope with them now. But what about the
children? Why not prepare them? Why not in
struct them in the milliner’s art as in fine needle
work. and domestic science? Why not let the girl’s
education include a course of training under an
artistic worker in flowers and ribbons? There are
women who form and teach classes like this, and
the girl who takes such a course of lessons is inde
pendent to an extent ever after, whatever styles
may be, or however they may change. She possess
es an advantage which, besides saving her expense,
insures her the individuality that is the desire of
every woman of artistic instinct.
If there is anything inherent in woman’s breast
it is the wish to look well; and nothing so makes or
mars as the hat. It would seem that vanity alone
would inspire the fingers of every mother’s daugh
ter of us. And when the trade has become so ar
bitrary, when we are simply forced against our will
and beyond our means, what course so natural or
so sensible as that we should take matters into our
own hands?
And shall we not do it? Let her who knows the
bitterness of the need of a new hat answer. Let
her decide whether her daughter shall be driven to
the lengths she herself has, or whether the child
shall be provided an independence which shall en
able her to maintain a proper sense of economy and
her artistic individuality at once.
The Folishness of Worry.
Perhaps there is nothing else so utterly foolish
and unprofitable as a habit of worrying. It saps
the nervous energy and robs us of the strength and
vitality necessary for the real work of life. It
makes existence a burden and a weariness, instead
of a perpetual joy and blessing, as it should be.
Poise and serenity are necessary to the complete
development of character and true success. The
man who worries is never self-centered, never per
fectly balanced, never at his best; for every moment
of mental anxiety takes away vitality and push, and
robs him of manhood and power.
Worrying indicates a lack of confidence in our
strength; it shows that we are unbalanced, that we
do not lay hold of the universal energy which leaves
no doubt, no uncertainty. The man who does not
worry, who believes in himself, touches the wires
of infinite power. Never doubting, never hesitat
ing, he is constantly reinforced from the Omnipo
tence that creates planets and suns.
The habit of worry is largely a physical infirmity;
it is an evidence of lack of harmony in the mental
system. The well-poised soul, the self-centered man
never wabbles or hesitates. The infinite balance
wheel preserves him from all shocks, and all acci
dent or uncertainty.
Enough vital energy has been wasted in useless
worry to run all the affairs of the world.—Success.
We Find What We Seek.
Some one has said that we are saved by our ad
mirations. Our characters are certainly molded by
our ideals.
The man who holds an admiration-ideal, so to
speak, who finds something good, something to ad
mire, in everybody, is infinitely superior to the one
who holds a critical ideal, who is always looking
for ugliness, deformity, and inharmony.
Nothing else so hardens character, so demoral
izes manhood and womanhood, and so utterly pre
cludes the possibility of upward growth, as the
deadening habit of fault-finding, of criticising. As
a rule, we find what we seek. If we look for light
and beauty—if we try to find something to ad
mire and praise in others—we shall find it. On the
other hand, if, like the hog, we root in the mire,
seek something filthy, keep constantly on the watch
for the faults, the unlovely qualities in others, we
shall find what we seek. But we must remember
that whatever we are looking for, whatever we are
striving to find, will color and influence our char
acters; in other words, we shall become like what
we strive and yearn for. So, if we wish to become
beautiful and strong, in mind and body, we must
seek symmetry, beauty, nobility—all that is vig
orous and elevating—continually, in nature and hu
manity.—Ex.
A Rare Beautifier.
“Have you noticed,” said a lady to a friend,
“how pretty Annie Holt has grown lately? She
used to wear such a sad, woe-begone epression that
it always gave me a fit of the blues to look at her.
She may have had those fine dark eyes, and that
sweet, rosy mouth always, but, somehow, I never
noticed them until recently.”
“Yes, I have remarked the improvement in An
nie’s looks,” replied the other, “and I know the se
cret of the change.”
“What is it?” queried the first speaker eager
ly. “Well, Annie was convinced that her life was
particularly narrow and devoid of brightness, and
she was growing morose and bitter about it. A
friend, who had tried the plan herself, persuaded her
to keep a diary, and to put down faithfully each day
every little pleasure that came to her, and also ev
ery opportunity that offered to brighten the day for
others. In a short time, she was surprised to find
how many records of this kind her diary contained.
By taking note of the pleasant things she gradually
formed the habit of looking for them instead of
the gloomy ones, and—well, you see the result.”
“Who would have thought that it would have
made such a difference in her appearance!” exclaim
ed the other. “Now I think I understand what Em
erson meant when he said— 1 There is no beautifier
of complexion or form or behavior like the wish
to scatter joy and not pain.’ ” —Selected.
Unreasonable Freddy.
Tommy—“Ma, Freddy’s crying ’cause I’m eat
ing my cake and won’t give him any.”
Mother—“ls his own cake finished?”
Tommy—“ Yes, ma; and he cried when I was eat
ing that, too.”—Woman’s Home Companion.